With or Without You
by xTheCagedBirdx
Summary: Read and see.
1. Extremely short Prologue: Disobedient

Narcissa Malfoy was most definitely exasperated. Ameline had decided to run off again, And Draco was throwing a tantrum over some new broomstick he wanted. Knowing that her son would win over Lucius shortly, she had left and was now searching for her daughter.

"No other pure-blood witch is trudging through a muggle neighbourhood looking for their disobedient child," she told herself. "I was never like this. Not even Bellatrix was like this, and I thought _she_ was misbehaved!"

It really didn't take that long to locate Ameline, but the search wasn't the problem. Sitting in a germ-filled sandbox, in the middle of a playground completely surrounded by muggles was 10 year old Ameline- smiling and laughing with the filthy things of course!

Now, Narcissa is a very controlled woman, but keeping her mouth shut and simply dragging her daughter home took every ounce of her willpower. Ignoring Ameline's complaints, she continued all the way to their front yard, far from those disgusting children, before releasing her arm, and trudging across the lawn.

"Mum, wait!" Ameline begged. "What did I do? I was just playing with my friends!"

Narcissa froze, turned rapidly on her heels, and marched back to her daughter, pointing a finger directly at her chest.

"Friends?" She exclaimed. "You call those wretched things friends?"

Frustrated, Ameline threw her hands into the air. "And what on earth is wrong with that?"

"How can I make you understand? They. Are. Muggles! And your blood is as pure as can be! You are so much better than those... creatures!"

"How Mum? You're being completely ridiculous!"

"I cannot believe that I am actually having this conversation with you! I'm sick of your attitude. Go to your room!" This time she didn't stop on her quick trek for the door, slamming it behind her upon entering the home.

Ameline sighed over-dramatically, something she was getting rather good at, stomped all the way into the house, and kicked off her shoes before noticing Draco's presence. "Some-one's in trou-ble!" he sang from his place on the parlour sofa.

"Oh shut up you! Where's Dad?"

"Comforting Mum, of course. She's really upset, you know. What did you do, uproot her rosebush?"

Some things are just not worth responding to. Following this principle, she went and hid in her room.

_Chapter note_: I wrote this a few months ago, but just found it again, and realize it's terrible. I am posting it to simply placate a friend (you know who you are!) If anyone actually enjoys this I'll continue the story. If not...then I won't.


	2. Chapter 1: Eleven Candles

Eleven. For most people eleven is just a number; it comes after ten, before twelve, and simply exists. These people happen to be muggles. For wizards, turning eleven is exciting. Eleven means Hogwarts. For me, eleven meant freedom.

June 5th passed without incident and every Malfoy pursued solitary enjoyment, like usual. Draco outdoors, pretending he could actually fly a broom properly; Father at the Ministry of Magic, bribing someone into something I'm sure; Mother cleaning our already-spotless home; and I, singing and smiling. It was a happy day. I was ready to escape this existence, and my flight was getting close. The loneliness, the boredom, and the unspoken disappointment were getting old. It's difficult to go through life knowing that your parents resent you, that they wish you hadn't been born. My parents had wanted a son. And _only _a son.

They'd accepted me, maybe even loved me... for a while. But then I grew up. When I outgrew my frilly dresses, I also outgrew their opinions. I began spending my time with muggle children, rather than my perfectly Slytherin brother. I began to read muggle books, and learn their part in history. Of course I never wanted to _be _a muggle, I only desired knowledge, but my parents pounded our blood-line into my head. They were trying to _cure_ me. I saw _filth_ as my equal, and that was disgraceful. Obviously, they gave up. That, I am positive, was when their love ceased.

Of course, I still had the same amount of privilege as Draco. I was taken nice places, given nice things, and put into nice clothes. I was kept tidy, hugged in public, and forced to smile. My parents had to keep up appearances, and that meant faking pride in me and my fake achievements. I was shown off as the beautiful Malfoy heiress, obedient and incapable of unorthodox views. In summary, they lied to protect the family name. Without our high status, we would have remained simple ex-followers of Voldemort: a death sentence.

But after June 5th none of this mattered to me. I was going to be free and no one, not even my family, could stop me.

August 23rd; a day that held less meaning, but turned out to be far more eventful. August 23rd was the day we went to Diagon Alley. I'd been there many times before, but always for my parents' needs; Mother's rat tails and dragon blood, or Father's new robes and quills. This time was for _me_... and Draco. But I'd perfected the skill of feigning his non-existence. My Hogwarts letter had arrived, and _I_ needed to purchase supplies. Mother hardly even dented our inordinately full vault, but she carried more gold in her pockets than some wizards own; Father made a snide remark about the Weasleys that Draco quite enjoyed, and I quite ignored. Our family dynamics were very predictable back then.

Father and Draco set off to do whatever it is that males do, and I set off with Mother. And thus our shopping day began. For the first time I actually paid attention to the stores; flipping open different books, handling newt eyes, and examining different broomsticks. I was _enjoying_ myself, an adequately foreign concept. Following my newly acquired letter I purchased all of the necessary books, and some extras of my own choosing. Moving through the different stores I selected cauldrons, phials, telescopes, and scales; and I continued to savour the day.

That being said, I spent this time in anticipation of one store, and was not disappointed. Behind a long counter, walls and shelves were lined from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with small, rectangular boxes. Ollivander's. I stood in pure awe. How on earth was I going to pick just one? But my Father's words reverberated in my mind: "The wand chooses the wizard. I'm sure the old bat tells that to every customer". I relaxed. How hard could this be, really?

Brief greetings were exchanged and I was handed the first specimen. It looked fairly ordinary, somewhat like Mother's, and I quickly swished it. Perhaps too violently. A pot on the counter exploded and we were all treated to a shower of who-knows-what. Ollivander grimaced and stepped carefully over a puddle, reaching for another weapon to arm me with. Not the best idea. This time I was careful to wave more gently, and nothing exploded. In fact, nothing happened at all. Embarrassed, I passed back the stick. My experimentation continued on like this for quite a while, occasional explosions causing Mother to jump. Eventually, a single wand didn't cause mass destruction, but released a small burst of streamers. It was placed back into its box and passed across the now-sticky counter.

"Much better" Ollivander had said with a slight grin. "The wand chooses the wizard, after all! Who are we to decide the process?" Father was right; the man's a broken record.

It was a great feeling, holding my own wand. It was _mine_, andit chose _me_. How cool is that? Hazel, 16 inches, with a mermaid hair core. _Mermaid_! I wondered if this particular sea maiden gave up her hair voluntarily, or if it was yanked from her scalp. You have to admit, it's definitely something to ponder. As we neared our last store, Madame Malkin's, I felt satisfied with the day's accomplishments; not expecting Draco's nearing idiocy. I should've known. He can't go through a day without doing something...well, Draco-like.

Although I had managed to earn several hours without him, my brother and I were left together to purchase our robes. This meant several exchanged insults, of course. We even managed to fit in a few punches each before Madam Malkin noticed us and directed Draco to a stool to be fitted. As Draco was poked and prodded with pins, and as I tried to come up with a witty comeback to the last thing he had said, a new boy entered.

And that was the minute that I lost myself.

With my Father being who he is, I know a great number of witches and wizards, and plenty of them have children my age. However, I have never been very fond of them. They were all snobby little brats, to be quite frank, and I isolated myself from them as much as possible. But this boy... he seemed different somehow; and I felt a sudden desire to know him: his interests, his story, his _name_! I was intrigued. He seemed slightly uncomfortable to be here, but he was so excited that his emerald eyes were practically glowing. They really were beautiful eyes...

"Hogwarts, dear?" I heard the seamstress ask. "Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

My first thought? _This boy is going to my school._

This thought was quickly followed by the realization that he was standing next to my tool of a brother.

_Merlin's pants!_


End file.
